


Like A Gay Poitier

by fabfemmeboy



Series: Sincere Baked Goods [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabfemmeboy/pseuds/fabfemmeboy
Summary: At the prospect of two hours sitting between the stepbrother who hated him and the boyfriend who "didn't do" meet-the-parents dinners, across from the woman who considered his boyfriend a delinquent and the father who still wasn't sure about this whole dating thing, Kurt came to the conclusion that Rachel might have to be the bright spot in this whole dinner.Mostly he just wanted Friday to be over.





	Like A Gay Poitier

The edict came down on Tuesday morning. Between grumbling over his unbuttered whole-wheat english muffin (which was a big enough concession for Kurt) and a raised eyebrow about whether Kurt really needed a subscription to four different version of Vogue ("Italian, Dad!"), Burt said, "So this guy. That you're...y'know. The guy. Is it a serious thing, or is it...teenage stuff?"  
  
"Well, we're both 16, so by definition it's teenage stuff," Kurt pointed out, not entirely sure what his father was asking.  
  
"Yeah, but is it serious?"  
  
"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I think so. Maybe."  
  
Burt nodded, seemed to think a second, then said, "He's coming to dinner Friday." It was clear it wasn't a question or even a request.  
  
"Dad-"  
  
"I don't know this kid, I'm at least gonna meet him if he's taking you out."  
  
Kurt didn't think that explaining that they hadn't actually been  _out_  yet and spent most of their time together fooling around at Puck's empty house was the best course of action. The knowledge that Finn and Carole would also be there - absent some conflict he was unaware of - wasn't helping matters. If he and Finn weren't speaking, then Puck and Finn were out for blood. And while he wasn't sure about the finer points of Carole's feelings about Puck, he knew they weren't good and a lot of it came down to the whole Quinn saga.  
  
Just him, his dad, and Puck would be a bad enough dinner. The entire Hudson-Hummel clan would, at this point, begin a conflict the likes of which would resemble - in the words of one Luke Danes, "Vietnam without all the cool shooting."  
  
But he knew from experience that there was no getting out of it, especially not given the last time he'd tried to skip Friday Night Dinner. Not like he still felt guilty over that or anything.   
  
Because of an extra football practice that bumped glee rehearsal, a project for French class that kept him in the library through lunch, and the fact that he was generally trying to hide from the slushie onslaught, Kurt managed to miss seeing Puck during school entirely. At 5:17, which Kurt knew had to be almost the instant Puck got home if practice ended at 5, he got a text.  
  
 _Where were u 2day?_  
  
Kurt smiled faintly and replied.  _I could ask you the same thing. What are your plans tonight?_  
  
 _Stuk w sister_  
  
Kurt considered for a moment and typed his response:  _I could come over anyways. I need to talk to you about something._  He knew sending it was risky, since everyone knew the worst words during a relationship were any permutation of "We need to talk," but Puck was decidedly not someone who communicated well by phone and otherwise it would have to wait until school the next day - assuming they finally actually saw each other - and it was really hard to have a serious conversation when you got interrupted halfway through by eggs being cracked over your head.  
  
Yeah, that had been Monday's new trick. Apparently they were somehow meant to represent balls. Rather, the resemblance made enough sense, but what cracking them over Puck's head meant was unclear. That had been Kurt's biggest objection - if you were going to do something novel and symbolic, the symbolism should at least be clear enough to be easily understood.   
  
He hadn't yet figured out a good way of explaining to Puck that, after ten years of being harassed, he had to take amusement in little things like that if he didn't want to go completely crazy.   
  
Reluctantly, he hit 'send' and waited for a nonchalantly anxious text in response.  
  
 _watevs_  
  
He assumed that meant 'whatever,' which he assumed was Puck-speak for "Sure, Kurt, come on over and meet my sister so we can have that important conversation."  
  
Not really. He knew better than that. He supposed he should just be glad that, unlike his soon-to-be-stepbrother, Puck didn't begin and end every sentence with the word "dude."  
  
When he arrived chez Puckerman, Sarah was the one who opened the door. "Hi. You're Noah's friend?"  
  
"Hey, twerp. You're supposed to-" came Puck's voice from at least a room or two away.  
  
"You  _said_  your friend was coming over, then the car pulled in," she called back and rolled her eyes. "I'm not supposed to open the door - what am I, five?"  
  
Oh, God. The rebellious snarky streak was genetic.  
  
"Am I allowed to let him in, or should I ask if he's a serial killer?" she called over her shoulder, and Kurt tried very hard not to laugh.  
  
"Just get in here, would ya?" Puck called.  
  
Kurt followed Sarah in and neatly folded his coat over the arm of the sofa on his way to the kitchen. Puck was standing in front of the stove in a McKinley hoodie and jeans, stirring what looked like one of those boxed rice meal things. "Hey." He looked over as though he was bored but stuck with the task, but he was still a lot more laid back than Kurt was used to seeing him. "Sorry for the company."  
  
"I don't mind Little Puck," Kurt replied, and when Puck quirked an eyebrow he added, "Couldn't possibly tell she's related to you, with a sarcastic tone like that already."  
  
"Yeah, we'll see. Knowing my luck, she'll be Santana in a few years."   
  
For some reason, Kurt didn't find that likely if only because he got the distinct impression Puck would put a stop to that pretty damn quickly.  
  
"So what's up?" Puck asked. Kurt looked around for Sarah, but Puck replied, "She's up in her room probably pretending to do homework or something.".   
  
"Okay." Kurt nodded and drew in a deep breath, then stated, "My dad wants to meet you."  
  
Puck's eyes narrowed. "I don't do parent dinners."  
  
"You don't 'do' dating, either," Kurt pointed out, "but we both see how that's working out."  
  
"Parents don't like me."  
  
"I can't imagine why - with your stellar educational and disciplinary records and all," Kurt replied dryly. "And that was before juvie. But this is important."  
  
"C'mon-"  
  
"My dad is the most important person in the world to me," he explained. "He's been all I had for a long time, and while I'm not interested in his approval per se, and I resigned myself long ago to the fact that he probably wouldn't like anyone I brought home if only because that person would be a boy trying to take out his son who - for these purposes, at least, may as well be his teenage daughter...it's important that you show up anyway."  
  
Puck seemed to contemplate this for a minute. "No amount of scheming is gonna get me out of this?"  
  
"None."  
  
"What do I have to wear?"  
  
Kurt's eyes lit up. "You'll let me pick-"  
  
"No way. I'm saying, I'm not wearing some stupid tie or anything."  
  
"What? Oh, no - family dinners are casual. Half the time Finn's wearing some variation on a football tshirt, so-"  
  
"Family dinner as in...them too?" Puck looked unimpressed, as if he was trying to go for irritated but didn't quite make it.  
  
"And Rachel," Kurt replied.   
  
"Oh, even better," he replied sarcastically.  
  
Kurt didn't explain that it had been his idea to invite her, and it was a good one for exactly three reasons. First, and perhaps most directly relevant, she had a calming effect on Finn that could only work to his advantage. Second, it helped to underscore for all people involved that Puck wasn't a buddy, he was a significant other - and every bit as valid of one as Rachel was to Finn.   
  
Third, and definitely the most important: If Rachel could be counted on for one thing that didn't involve singing, it was her ability to make any moment, meal, or conversation about herself. And the more time they spent talking about Rachel, the less time they could spend talking about him. Them. All of the above.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dinner started badly and went downhill quickly from there.  
  
As the only one other than Carole who could cook - and with his dad's current dietary restrictions, that was still yet to be determined - the responsibility for dinner preparation fell to Kurt. He didn't mind the act of cooking; it was the menu planning that about killed him.  
  
Nothing high in fat, salt, or cholesterol. Vegan options for Rachel. But Finn refused to eat salad and his father and Carole insisted that soup was not a sufficient meal absent some additional courses. Nothing broiled, fried, or wrapped in bacon. And, he realized somewhere in the middle of the Asian spices section while trying to determine why precisely everything had to have such a high sodium content, he had no idea what Puck ate. He assumed it was along the same lines as Finn, but he honestly couldn't begin to identify what foods Puck did or didn't like other than his affinity for salty snack foods and unlawful baked sweets.  
  
By the time the doorbell rang, Kurt was ready to ump out of his skin. He replaced the lid and turned down the heat, then raced to the front door. He opened it, expecting to see little but a mohawk, jeans, and a letter jacket.  
  
Instead, he was greeted by Noah Cash.  
  
Puck was wearing black pants that Kurt recognized from the identical pair in his closet, the black button-down competition shirt open at the neck, and a black leather jacket. A maroon box rested under one arm, and his other hand was in his pocket.  
  
It took an exceptional amount of self-control not to drag him down to the basement, and the thought of Puck in all black sprawled casually across the all-white decor made it that much harder. No pun intended or anything, though Kurt blushed at the thought.  
  
When Kurt just kept staring at him, Puck asked, "What?" defensively, then added, "I told you I wasn't wearing a freaking tie."  
  
"It's fine," Kurt replied breathlessly. "Perfect. Come in." As soon as he turned away from Puck, the trance was broken and he was once again bombarded by all the things he had to do before 7. "My dad just got home, so he went up to shower and change, Carole's coming from work, Finn's picking up Rachel and she just texted to say they're on the way." He walked quickly into the kitchen to check on the food.  
  
"I brought pie," Puck said.  
  
"What?" Kurt asked.  
  
"I didn't know if I was supposed to bring something or whatever, I don't usually meet parents unless they catch me on the way out of some girl's window, but I thought...y'know. It's pie. So whatever."  
  
Kurt blinked. "Thank you."  
  
"I thought about bringing cupcakes - chill everyone out a little-" he joked, and Kurt shot him a glare.  
  
Okay. No joking. That was gonna make dinner even longer. Especially since there was also no sex during dinner.  
  
As Kurt hurriedly tried to finishing making...whatever it was he was making, Puck couldn't tell since there wasn't a box or anything sitting nearby that would tell him what it was...he hoisted himself up on the counter to watch. Not like he had anything else to do, and Kurt didn't seem interested in talking.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Puck hopped off the counter at the deep voice he didn't recognize. The guy in the flannel shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap had to be Kurt's dad, right? While he saw some facial resemblance, there was otherwise no way he could imagine  _Kurt_  coming from this guy.  
  
"Dad!" Kurt quickly dropped his spoon and swooped in. "Dad, this is Noah Puckerman. Puck, my father."  
  
Puck extended his hand, which Burt shook while looking him up and down suspiciously. When the gaze lingered witheringly on the top of Puck's head, Kurt jumped in with, "I like him better with the mohawk, too - it's a recent reappearance." Burt kind of snorted at that, and Puck wondered if they would do something crazy like demand he shave it off before dinner could start or something.  
  
What? Kurt had to get his weird from somewhere, right?  
  
"Nice to meet you," Puck offered, then added, "Sir." He didn't do that shit, but he also didn't know this guy and if it turned out he was the kind of guy who was big on the sir and respect stuff-  
  
...okay, if that was the case, he was kinda screwed.  
  
Why was Kurt insisting on this, again?  
  
Burt surveyed the table, with the extra leaf Kurt had put in, and took the seat closest to his usual one. "Have a seat," he said in the tone of voice that reminded Puck why he  _really_  didn't do these dinners.  
  
...Which seat? There were five more to choose from. He glanced at Kurt, who did his best to point to one of them over his father's head. When Burt looked up with a 'what the hell?' look, Puck sat in the closest seat.  
  
"So... _Puck_ ," Burt said, the nickname practically being grunted in his direction.  
  
"Noah's fine," he said out of nowhere. It certainly got Kurt's attention, and he had no idea what had possessed him to say it, but it couldn't hurt right? How badass could someone really be when meeting the overprotective father of the guy he was screwing around with?  
  
"You're in glee with Kurt and Finn?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"He had a couple solos at Regionals, remember Dad?" Kurt offered as he started to ladle out six bowls of soup.  
  
"Right, yeah," Burt said. Puck wasn't sure why he felt a twinge of something at the idea that Burt had been there. Most of their parents hadn't - his mom had to work, so did Finn's mom, Santana's parents didn't care...of course, he didn't remember very much about the competition that day. "You do anything else?"  
  
"I play football," he offered, and from the look on Kurt's face that was absolutely the right thing to say.  
  
"What position?"  
  
"Wide receiver, mostly right-side."  
  
"Pretty fast then?"  
  
"Not bad," Puck shrugged.   
  
"He scored the touchdown in the game we won," Kurt added, and Burt nodded.  
  
"I played in high school. Running back - back when it was still called halfback."  
  
Kurt had no idea what that meant or why it was meant to be funny. He knew his dad and Puck bonding over something was important, and it certainly wasn't going to be over a love of guitar playing or a history of juvenile arrests, but he bristled a little at the football war stories. He knew it was stupid, he knew that there was absolutely  _no_ danger that his father would start to like Puck better than him - at this point, he found it unlikely that his father would ever start to like Puck at all - but it didn't escape his notice that despite being on the football team for two months, his dad had never talked football with him.  
  
He shook his head at his own paranoia. Of all the things Finn had made him paranoid about, this was no longer the biggest or most painful. Thinking back to how big and painful it had been the previous spring, that was saying quite a bit.  
  
"So whatcha think of that new woman coach?"  
  
"Beiste? She's okay, I guess. Kinda weird. Really intense compared to Coach Tanaka, but we're winning so that's good, right?" Puck shrugged. "I kinda like the practices that are too hard though, y'know? Makes me feel like I can do anything."  
  
"I get it," Burt nodded.   
  
This was going well, Kurt decided. After all, it sounded about like his dad and Finn had sounded early on, though Puck was trying harder and being less of an ass - which was surprising from Puck, who generally didn't do well around authority figures. Maybe things wouldn't go so badly.  
  
"She's not bad, though. At least she's fair about crap - and she did let Artie on the team."  
  
"You mean after she kicked me off it for trying to get him on?" Finn asked as he came into the kitchen.   
  
Then again, maybe it would.  
  
Rachel had her 'show face' on already, which Kurt took to mean she was as concerned about the evening's prospects as he was. Though, if nothing else, the garishness of her skirt might distract people.  
  
"She let you back on, dude, she didn't know you were being serious. She thought you were trying to mess with her, and after the thing with the pizzas-" Puck pointed out.  
  
"You ever think to stand up for me?"  
  
"After how quick she snapped? No way, I wanted to get my spot."  
  
"Thanks, dude," Finn replied sarcastically.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I would've had your back-"  
  
"You mean like this week-"  
  
"Guys!" Burt commanded and both fell silent, eyeing each other sullenly.   
  
After a few minutes of tense silence and two teenage alpha-male-wannabes glaring at each other, Rachel decided to jump in brightly. "Thank you so much for inviting me, Mr. Hummel - I know that Friday Night Dinners are an important family event around here."  
  
"Is Mom on her way or should we start without her?" Finn asked.  
  
"Why don't you ask, she's  _your_  mother," Kurt pointed out.  
  
"I think I saw headlights pulling in," Rachel offered.  
  
Burt checked the clock. "Yeah, prob'ly. 'Bout the right time."  
  
"Everyone go ahead and take a seat," Kurt said with a forced brightness as he began to serve the soup. The faster people had full mouths, the less time would be spent talking.   
  
Carole entered in her work clothes and set down her purse and coat on the end of the couch. "Sorry - am I late?"  
  
"Not at all, just getting an early start," Kurt said. He checked on the main course before turning the oven and stovetop to low, then started to take his seat.  
  
The only open one was between Finn and Puck.   
  
Damn it. He'd known he should have made place cards.  
  
He drew in a deep breath and took the seat, trying to ignore the way the two guys glared over his head.  
  
"Good to see you, Mrs. H.," Puck offered. It had been awhile - at least a year or two now. Even before everything happened, he and Finn had been mostly hanging out away from the house because they weren't 8 anymore. It was weird how much had changed since then. He wondered if she was going to change her name when they got married...but he guessed she'd still be Mrs. H., wouldn't she? Even if Carole Hummel sounded freaking lame.  
  
"Noah," she replied coldly.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure why she seemed pissed at him, but he was reasonable sure it involved Finn being a mommas-boy narc.  
  
"What kind of soup is this?" Rachel asked politely.  
  
"Vegan carrot soup," he replied. "It almost ran into disaster - my saffron supplier dried up."  
  
It took everything in Puck not to make a joke at that. The way Kurt said it, like saffron was some kind of illegal drug...was it his fault the thing was an herb? He thought saffron was an herb, anyway. He wouldn't actually know.  
  
"So Noah," Carole said. "How's Quinn?"  
  
You know what he wanted? For one freaking conversation involving Finn to  _not_  start and end with digs on him. Like he up and abandoned Quinn when she needed him or was some deadbeat or something. "She's fine, I guess. Dating Sam Evans."  
  
"Finn mentioned. He sounds like a nice kid." It was weird, even though she didn't say anything actually rude, and she didn't raise her voice or anything, it was obvious to every person at the table she thought he was trash. Some delinquent who wasn't good enough for her kid to hang out with and not good enough for her stepkid to date. And she sounded disappointed in him, but he had no idea why.   
  
"He's okay, I guess," Puck shrugged. Rachel was making a weird face about Sam - or maybe about Sam and Quinn - and he didn't know what that was about, but she definitely looked proud of that for some reason. He got the feeling he didn't want to know.   
  
"And your daughter?"  
  
It was like all the oxygen was sucked out of the room suddenly. Puck tensed, jaw set, eyes narrow. "She's fine," he replied tightly.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Ms. Corcoran sent Quinn pictures a couple months ago." He didn't mention that, when he asked to see them, Quinn told him to go screw himself. A little nicer than that, because she was Quinn and not Santana, but not that much nicer. Like Beth was only hers or something. Like he didn't have a right to see his kid if Ms. Corcoran said they could.   
  
Kurt wasn't the kind of person who reacted to emotional situations with touch - the comforting embrace of his dad being a noted exception - but he wanted to hug Puck. He couldn't be the only one who saw the defiant sadness in Puck's eyes, right? Everyone else had to see it, it was so glaringly obvious - like a little boy determined not to cry because his dad told him to 'man up.' Kurt placed a tentative hand on Puck's elbow. Puck's head turned quickly to him and he glanced down at the pale hand on black fabric as if he almost wanted to ask 'the fuck is this doing here?', then his lips twitched into what might have been the start of a smile if a person squinted.   
  
"It makes us kind of family, Noah," Rachel said gently. "If you think about it, I mean my mother is raising your daughter, that makes you like my stepfather or something." Puck kind of rolled his eyes, and Kurt had to give him credit for not making a comment about when they dated for like ten minutes. "And she's Jewish, which I know is as important to you as it is to me..."  
  
"Who's ready for the main course?" Kurt asked. As much as that was Rachel trying to be nice, Puck was a creature of avoidance and the last thing the dinner conversation needed was to delve into the topic of Beth too deeply. Because then Puck would get depressed, but because he was Puck he would react with anger instead of tears or outward sadness, and either Finn would end up on the floor while Puck kicked his ass or there would be another random crime spree. Neither of those results were exactly going to encourage his dad to let him date Puck, either. Kurt hopped to his feet and began to clear the soup bowls.  
  
"Kurt tells me you guys did a duet," Burt said, eyeing Puck suspiciously.  
  
He wasn't sure where that had come from or if confirmation was the right response. "Yeah," Puck replied.   
  
"Your idea, or...?"  
  
"Dad!" Kurt protested.  
  
Puck wasn't sure where the question was going, but figured honesty was best. "Yeah. I was out and had to make it up, and I asked Kurt to sing with me."  
  
Well, he wasn't going to say  _why_  he was out. Honestly had its limits.  
  
"What'd you sing?" Burt asked like he couldn't imagine his son and this guy having much in common - for one thing, guys with mohawks didn't tend to listen to showtunes and those girl singers Kurt liked.  
  
"'Sound of Silence'?"  
  
Burt nodded approvingly, like he couldn't dislike that choice too much, but Finn was happy to step in. "You listen to that a lot in juvie, start going all bluesy in a cell-"  
  
"Shut  _up_ , Finn!" Kurt said, practically slamming the dinner plate in front of him.  
  
That got Burt's attention. "Juvie?" he asked with clear disapproval.  
  
Puck didn't know much about meeting the parents, but he knew that a record wasn't something that would ever go over well. Not like he gave a rat's ass if Burt liked him or not, he didn't need anyone to 'approve' of him, but Kurt cared and he did kind of care if Kurt was pissed at him.   
  
When all else failed, Puck concluded, downplay and be charming. People liked that contrite shit, right? "I was going through a hard time and I made a mistake. I served my time, all that, and now have all the social workers and therapists and all that." He drew in a deep breath and said what he thought Burt needed to hear. "It's not something that will happen again. Trust me."  
  
Burt's eyes narrowed and he inspected Puck intensely. "Look, kid, I don't know you. And Kurt? He's my son. I've gotta look out for-"  
  
"Dad, please," Kurt moaned, shaking his head.  
  
"He uses girls and throws them away," Finn piped up.  
  
"Dude-"  
  
"Well if he's worried-" Finn started.  
  
"Yeah, right. Cause worrying about if Kurt's being treated right by me, that's really what you're upset about," Puck replied sarcastically. "I forgot, you're a total protective big brother."  
  
"Stop it," Kurt pleaded quietly, his voice tight. They fell silent but continued to glare just past Kurt's head.  
  
"How much do people know?" Burt asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Everyone knows Kurt's a homo. But with the tough guy thing you're doing, the hair and all that, it's gotta be more of a surprise. How much do people know you're- Kurt says you're not gay, I dunno about that, but are you...open?" Burt asked. The awkwardness was almost palpable, and the words were close to the conversation they'd had before everything. Kurt shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"Everyone knows now," Puck shrugged. "It's not so bad."  
  
"Slushies say otherwise," Finn replied.  
  
"Just because  _you're_  a punk who can't handle it doesn't mean all of us are."  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
"Last time it got like this, I got nailed and didn't give a damn.  _You_  whined about corn syrup, then let the team get you to slushie Kurt - only you couldn't even do that right, so he slushied himself to let you save face."  
  
"And then Puck did choose glee over football, even when you didn't," Rachel reminded Finn. He didn't look too pleased at her helpfulness.  
  
"Then you act like you didn't know he liked you or something? Dude threw a slushie at his own head for you."  
  
"What do you mean, act like I didn't know?" Finn demanded.   
  
"You ever tell him to knock it off? When he sang the duet or made comments or anything?"  
  
Kurt had kind of expected that the night might involve a litany of Puck's sins, especially the way Carole started the dinner. But it had never occurred to him that he might be stuck between the guy he used to like and the guy he was dating while they listed every stupid, naive, lovesick thing he'd ever done.  
  
"Dude, how would you feel if a guy was checking you out in the showers? And then in your own  _room_? You can't tell me you'd be comfortable with that - or, at least, you wouldn't have been before..." Finn made kind of a creeped-out face.  
  
"Before what?" Puck demanded, eyes narrowing.  
  
"Before he...y'know..."  
  
"Before he what?" Carole asked.  
  
"Made him gay," Finn said. "Look, dude, I know you don't like it, and you're saying you're not gay just because of Kurt or whatever, but...dude, you're dating a dude. That's pretty gay. And if you -  _you_ , who has slept with like every woman our moms' age in town, and like half the Cheerios...including my ex-girlfriend...if  _you_  can end up screwing the guy because he comes on hard enough, what the hell are the rest of us supposed to do? It's like no one is safe or something."  
  
Rachel kept looking uncomfortable, like she wasn't sure whether to jump in and change the subject or break up with Finn on the spot. That made sense, Burt thought, he knew something about her having gay dads and couldn't imagine any of this was sitting well with her. Puck looked like a pissed-off Doberman on a short leash - he wanted to lunge out and attack the kid who kept poking him with a stick, but he knew he couldn't.  
  
What Burt really noticed was, the more Finn spoke, the more Kurt looked like he was trying to disappear. It started with a tightening of the shoulders, that tense tilt of his head, all things he recognized from his kid. But at a certain point it started to look like- He wasn't entirely sure how to describe it, but the best he could come up with was that it looked like all the spirit and strength he loved and admired in his son was slowly draining out of him from his feet and moving upwards. By the time the terse, proud, 'I'm not even going to respond to that because I'm better than you' look faltered and then vanished...It looked like Kurt had given up and was just taking the beating because he knew it wasn't going to stop no matter how hard he fought.  
  
Dear god, how many times had this happened before? How long had Finn been saying this stuff, because it was painfully obvious that both Kurt and Puck had heard it before. No wonder Kurt thought he'd been trying to tell him he was...what had Kurt said? Toxic?...if this was the other stuff he was getting around the same time... Burt felt vaguely sick as he realized that, by defending Finn, he'd kind of been endorsing this - he didn't know it at the time, but if Kurt thought that standing behind Finn and his right to not want to be pursued meant standing up for all of  _this_?  
  
Suddenly the conversation the night Kurt told him about Puck was making a lot more sense. All that stuff about being afraid he was imagining advances - well, sure, when the last guy you thought you liked turned around and acted like this, and your dad - the one person you thought had your back - said everything he'd said was right except that one slur? You'd be scared to so much as talk to a guy ever again, let alone let him date you.  
  
"Finn. Enough," Burt said in a voice that left no room for argument, and Kurt's head snapped up. The faint shimmer of hope in his son's eyes and how quickly it vanished, as though Kurt didn't want to let himself believe it was going to be okay, about killed him. "What's your problem?"  
  
"Kurt keeps-"  
  
"No, I'm serious. What the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
"He wouldn't leave me alone."  
  
"He's stopped now?" Burt asked in a voice that made very clear he knew the answer.  
  
"Y-yeah, dude, but he-"  
  
"But you still think it's okay to say that to him? You really think it works like that- that if a gay kid flirts long and hard enough he can make someone gay from wishful thinking? You don't think life'd be a lot easier if we could, y'know, make the people we like like us back?"  
  
"It's different-"  
  
"No it's not. I thought it was - I thought, I wouldn't have wanted a gay guy hanging out in my room when I was 16, I wouldn't wanna deal with him flirting with me or any of that- but as soon as he stopped, that'd be it. You can't stop freaking out about it. And here I was, defending you to him - defending everything up to the word you used 'cause I wanted to think you'd learned. That maybe you were just stressed with everything with your mom and me and you lashed out at Kurt 'cause he was there. That maybe Kurt had done enough to justify you hitting a breaking point or something. But this? You really don't get it." The disappointment in his voice surpassed any Kurt had ever heard from him, up to and including the last conversation before the heart attack. "You tell Puck who else he can date?"  
  
"No, I- except girls I'm dating-"  
  
"Tell anyone else at school who they can talk to? Any of the other guys on the team?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what the hell makes you think- You know what that does to a person? When you say crap like that, calling him a predator?"  
  
"Burt-" Carole said quietly.  
  
"No," he replied firmly. "The rest of the world says what they want about my son and I can't stop them. But in this house, in this  _family_ , I'll be damned if I'm gonna let it go on. Finn's got a right to be comfortable, but not at Kurt's expense."  
  
The entire table was silent, not sure what exactly to say, and Burt looked at his son. Kurt was staring intently at the tabletop, looking like he was trying very hard not to start crying. But instead of looking completely pulled in on himself, one arm was over and down; though Burt couldn't see for sure, it looked like this Puck kid might be holding Kurt's hand under the table.  
  
"Go take Rachel home," he said. His voice was still gruff, his anger evident. Finn nodded, eyes wide, and stood.  
  
"Thank you for dinner," Rachel managed quietly before she scampered out to Finn's car in the driveway.  
  
Kurt stood numbly and began to clear the table. As he started to do the dishes, he could hear his dad and Carole in the front hall - not fighting, that implied a lot more yelling, but this was icy to be sure. He felt guilty; this was the second fight between them that had been caused by his father defending him. He knew logically that Finn was the one at fault here, with what he said and how he wouldn't let up, but he wanted his dad to be happy and he was happy with Carole.  
  
Puck stood and walked over to the sink. Leaning back against the counter, he offered, "I get why people say your dad's awesome." Kurt smiled very faintly, almost pained. "Prob'ly should've just let Finn keep going, but he was wrong. I know it screwed up dinner or whatever, but-"  
  
"Puck," Kurt said quietly, "I was just happy no punches were thrown."  
  
In truth, it wasn't the only thing he was happy about. What his father had said, while it made him cry, was still the closest to a normal thing he'd heard in so long...he didn't know how to even express it.  
  
"I guess."  
  
Burt entered, looking tense and tired. "You should sit down," Kurt instructed softly, looking over his shoulder. "Stress and all."  
  
Burt's lips curved slightly in a sad but vaguely amused smile. "Yeah." He shook his head. "I feel like I should tell you, Noah, not every dinner's like this."  
  
"I'd hope not."  
  
It didn't escape Burt's notice the way Puck's hand occasionally came to rest on Kurt's shoulder. It wasn't anything overtly sexual or even all that boyfriend-ish; it was just so... _familiar_. In a good way, as long as he didn't think about just how familiar they might be.  
  
Sensing there might need to be a conversation he wasn't part of, Puck said, "I should go. Thanks for dinner - and um, nice meeting you." He squeezed Kurt's shoulder and left, grabbing his jacket on the way.  
  
Father and son were silent for a few minutes in the otherwise now-empty kitchen, and the only sound was the light clanking of dishes as Kurt placed them one-by-one in the drying rack. "So that's the guy," Burt said finally.  
  
"Yes," Kurt replied with a quiet laugh. A normal conversation after such an abnormal dinner seemed almost ridiculous.  
  
"I don't like the mohawk. Or the record."  
  
"Neither do I," Kurt replied honestly.  
  
"You have to keep the basement door open." When Kurt turned to look at him, surprised, Burt misinterpreted the expression. "I know you don't like when I treat you like a girl, buddy, but I can't act like he's any other guy hanging out downstairs."  
  
"You didn't care when Brittany was down there," he pointed out, confused.  
  
"True, I guess," Burt allowed. Even if he hadn't really believed Kurt would go through with anything with the blonde girl - if only because she was a girl - he guessed it wasn't really fair. "I don't wanna...y'know...know about anything going on. I'm not saying it can't, I was having sex by the time I was your age, but I'm not ready to-"  
  
Kurt held up a hand. "Dad, believe me - I have no intention to give you any such details."  
  
"Good." Burt sounded just a little too relieved. "He's gotta respect you. If he doesn't, if he doesn't treat you right, tell me and I'll-"  
  
"Take a flamethrower to his house?"  
  
"No, but...something like that."  
  
"Thank you," Kurt whispered. They both knew it wasn't for the promise to commit arson.  



End file.
